


Shared

by Kitsu



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alucard's Wolf-Form, Blood, Broken Heart, Camping, Demons, During season 2, Feels, Healing, Injury, Is a Warm Pillow, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Nights Are Cold, Season/Series 02, Swearing, Touch-Starved, kiss, no beta we die like warriors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22269280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: The nights grow cold, and Adrian finds a way to warm up Trevor. As a result, he himself might even be warming up to the hunter as well.
Relationships: Alucard/Trevor Belmont
Comments: 58
Kudos: 535





	1. Shared Warmth

The nights were growing colder, and even a raging fire barely kept the cold at bay when they were forced to set up camp outside. The last few nights Sypha had taken to random bouts of shivering in her sleep, her heavy cloak no longer warm enough to keep her comfortable as the temperatures dropped. Currently, her teeth were clattering softly.

Adrian watched as Belmont's brows knitted, worry apparent on his face. Shrugging his fur cloak of his shoulders, he crawled over to drape it over the girl's sleeping form. So the hunter did have a heart, at least for the girl.

Curling himself together even closer to the fire, misery played across Trevor’s features freely. His head soon started drooping, chin resting against his torso. The cold seemed to creep in on him, and as he soon ended up in a ball on the cold ground. the same shiver that had plagued Sypha crept into his form, the slight tremor revealing his discomfort even in sleep.

Adrian felt a pang of pity for the Belmont, who had so willingly sacrificed his own comfort for the sake of the Speaker. They’d left Gresit in a hurry, and though they had stocked up on what they could, the city had been chaotic to say the least. Not all resources had been as easy to scrounge, blankets and bedding having been one of those - unless they’d wanted to rob covers from dead bodies, bloody and gory. Oddly, or perhaps not so, they’d both seemed pretty damn opposed to the notion, settling for sleeping their own heavy cloaks - though they now proved lacking.

Sypha seemed to have settled under the pile of fur and fabric, finally warm enough. Belmont, on the other hand, tossed and turned, uncomfortable, sleep constantly interrupted. It wouldn’t do, the man was abrasive enough after a good night's sleep, Adrian didn’t even want to consider what he’d be like after a bad one. 

Standing, he decided he didn’t have much choice, he needed the hunter at his peak - as bad as that was. Stretching, he felt the shift tug at his form, the magic twist through him, to let his soft paws pad across the frozen ground. Silently, he stalked up to the hunter, hoping he would recognize him for who he was even in this form. He’d shown him this form in battle, but still, it might frighten him into action.

Nudging Trevor’s knees gently with his muzzle, he watched silently as the Belmont opened his eyes, blinking blearily, before they instantly went wide and shocked - obviously not having expected to be left staring into the face of a giant wolf. The hunter sat up in a flash, almost scrambling, hands searching out his weapons - but still silent Adrian just trodded closer to his side, walked a circle and laid down, his head coming to a rest in Trevor’s lap. 

Belmont sat stiff as a pole for a moment, obviously not sure about what to do about the giant white wolf with its head in his lap, non-threateningly staring at him with yellow, golden eyes. His hands moved away from the whip, hovering for a moment, though in the end fingers seemed to unconsciously wind through his fur, scratching him behind his ears. As Trevor’s eyes became heavy again, sleep overtaking him, he slouched down to rest his head in the thick, warm fur. Adrian curled around his torso, warming him throughout the night.

Still alert, Adrian kept watch throughout the night, animal senses even keener than his normal ones. The night remained quiet and calm - the only sounds drifting through the air came from Sypha who slept peacefully under a mound of robes and coats, and the Belmont rested in the curl of Adrian’s lupine form, softly breathing against fur. 

\---

When the sun started rising above a low hill, long rays of light hitting their camp, Belmont’s eyes fluttered open, groggily. Sitting up and pulling away from the wolf, he rubbed his eyes. 

Letting his magic fade, Adrian regained his human form, sitting just shy of too close to the hunter, their shared warmth still lingering on his skin.

Trevor stretched, arms above his head. “Damn, vampire. I might not like you much, but you make for a decent pillow like that.”

Adrian huffed, the finger he flipped Belmont his only answer.

\---

Yet, when the next night rolled around, Adrian found himself curled up by the fire in his wolf form, offering Belmont the comfort of sleeping alongside him if he wanted it. He’d realized he’d enjoyed the closeness of the previous night, though he would never admit the sentiment in words, particularly not to the Belmont.

Since his mother’s death, he’d been lonely, touch starved, and if offering up his body heat led to those strong hands running through his fur again, scratching and petting comfortingly, he’d gladly act as the butt of Trevor Belmont’s jokes and insults once in a while. 

Deep down, he’d even realized he wanted more, wanted the same hands to touch not fur, but his own skin, warm and strong and purposeful. They needed to find an inn to spend the night at, and soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bunny I needed to write out.


	2. Shared Fight

Adrian had long since realized what he was doing. Yes, he hung around Trevor Belmont in his wolf form, craving the attention, the closeness of watching, resting beside the hunter during cold nights, even when it wasn’t strictly necessary, simply because it felt good, because even when cold the hunter still radiated heat. Night after night passed, and he’d grown accustomed to it, far quicker than bode well for any of them. 

Yet he still felt like the Belmont despised him with every part of his being, blood averse to blood, Belmont to vampire. When Adrian was in his human form, Belmont couldn’t open his mouth without letting some insult slip, but when Adrian became the wolf, Trevor shut up, let him close, petted his head until he’d fall asleep against Adrian’s curled up form, using him as a live pillow. Adrian swore Belmont actually liked the giant white wolf better than the vampire, even though the soul was the same. 

This weird stand off of their lasted for a few weeks, until the camp was suddenly attacked during the night, demons and twisted things swooping in from the air, flying on silent wings. Even he hadn't noticed them, some sort of glamour hiding their presence until too late. Not until the first one swooped through the sparks of the campfire, talons set on gutting Belmont did he take notice. Reacting on instinct, Adrian simply leapt, placing himself in the air between the demon and the quickly awakening hunter. 

When talons slashed across his back, he yelped, the burn of dark magic and unholy spells driving pain into his side. It didn’t feel normal, didn’t feel like it would just heal up in a little while, like cuts caused by normal blades. Something was off, and he needed the things dead so he could find out what. Letting the magic slip, he regained his human form, calling for his blade. Sending it swinging, doing his work for him, he remained crouched on the ground, wrapping his arm across his belly to feel his side. Deep gashes, bloody, pouring, warm, wounds not closing on their own.

Hauling himself to his feet, he looked around, trying to get an overview of the situation. Sypha had crawled out of her pile of coats, blasting the demons with spells left and right. She held her ground well, though her hair was standing up in all oddly charming directions, and sleep left her eyes heavy, yet still focused. Belmont was up as well, the whip slashing through the air, taking down creatures one by one, disintegrating them. 

Taking a moment to check the demons out, Adrian found the source behind his discomfort. Their talons shone in the night, bright silver. These were creatures sent to kill some other creature of the night, and though the silver didn’t bother him as much as it would a pure-blood, it still hurt. It would heal eventually, but he’d be in more discomfort than usual. Wincing, he stood up to command the sword with steadier intent, cutting demons out of the air, one by one, until there were none.

\---

Still alive, they considered the carnage that had been their camp, dead demon gore covering every part of it. _Fuck_. They needed to move out, the camp and their position both compromised. Packing their meager possessions onto the cart, they made a few makeshift torches to light the way for the horses. Belmont lead one along, in torchlight, Adrian the other, seeing the road clear as day even in the dark. They moved in silence, pulling the spooked horses along, avoiding anything they could lose their footing on.

Hours passed, and Adrian felt his strength wane. He’d be in trouble if something else decided to attack. Sighing, he steeled himself, followed Belmont’s tempo. Gritting his teeth, he pushed on. 

Until Belmont stopped short in his tracks, eyebrows knitted. “The fuck is wrong with you, vampire?” 

There it was, that keen eye of Belmont’s, the one he was always trying to hide. Trevor Belmont saw more than he liked to pretend.

Simply unwrapping his arm from around his waist, Adrian held up his hand, palm towards Trevor, blood red even in the dim light of a torch. 

“You’re fucking hurt? Why didn’t you say anything?” Trevor turned to Sypha, who sat on the cart, reins in hand. “Keep the horses in check. Fangs is bleeding, didn’t say a word.”

She reined in the horses, eyes searching out Adrian, full of concern. “You’re hurt?”

“Silver talon got me, and it’s not closing as quickly as usual.”

“Will you be okay?” she asked, voice wobbling with worry.

“Eventually, though it is wearing me down. I’d love to settle down again for the night soon though.” 

“You go ride with Sypha,” Belmont cut him off, brusquely. Closing the distance between them, he pulled the lead belonging to the second horse from Adrian’s hand. “I’ll find us an inn, or at least a roof over our heads for the rest of the night.” 

Feeling defeated, Adrian reluctantly climbed onto the cart, Sypha giving him a helping hand. Collapsing against her side, her warmth a comfort in the cold night, he soon found himself nodding off against his volition.

\---

When he came to, Belmont had kept his word. They’d rolled into a small hamlet, barely large enough to be called a village, but it seemed to have been spared strife, smoke rising from several chimneys. It didn’t have a church, only a small chapel, most likely the reason they’d avoided the wrath of Dracula. No priests to gut and string up.

A small building with a connected stable served as a public house, inn and guest house, it looked like. The hour was late, and when Sypha jumped down from the cart, walked over and knocked the door softly, they weren’t really expecting someone to answer, fully prepared to sleep in the stable if needed. Sypha visibly jumped when an elderly woman cracked open the door, obviously tired, yet smiling at them. 

“Such a late hour to arrive at,” she said, though cracking the door open further.

“We were attacked outside town,” Sypha answered, truthfully. “Pardon the late intrusion, but our friend was hurt.” She gestured in Adrian’s general direction. “Not horribly, but he could use a clean up and a room to rest up in, if any are available.”

“Oh dear,” the woman huffed. “Travel has become such a hazard these days.” Eyeing them, she seemed to make a decision. “I only have one free room, but there is a loft above the stable as well. You, young lady, take the room. Use it to clean up _your friend_ , then the men can sleep above the stable. It should be comfortable enough, the animals keep it warm.”

Trevor, unspeaking, uncoupled the horses, bringing them with him inside the stable, to brush them down and give them water, undoubtedly. 

Adrian climbed down from the cart, hiding the extent of blood he’d lost under his dark coat, bringing his sword with him. The landlady ushered them inside, through a darkened common room, up a set of stairs to a heavy wooden door. 

“This will be your room, young lady,” she explained. “He can wait here, while you come with me downstairs. I’ll boil some water in the kitchen, there is still a small fire burning there. You can decide if you’ll have a warm drink with me there and let the men sort out this injury, or you can come go back up here whenever.”

She’d seen her fair share over the years, Adrian guessed, completely unfazed by the prospect of an injured guest in her house. 

Sypha turned to him. “I’ll send Trevor up with the water. I...uh...think he’s seen more injury than me, he’ll probably be better suited to help you out.”

Admittedly, she was most likely right, and considering the slight green tinge to her features, she took more offence to blood when it belonged to a compatriot than when she was killing monsters herself. 

\---

When Trevor arrived, Adrian had managed to wriggle out of his coat, leaving it hanging across a rickety chair. His shirt was soaked through, but as he had no other items of clothing he still kept it on, the room a little cold. He’d found himself another chair, and sat down, the wrong way around, arms folded and leaning on the top of its back. 

Trevor hissed as soon as he walked through the door to see him, the shirt telling a story, bloodied through. “How is that not torn to shreds with that amount of blood?” he asked, while moving closer.

“Took the hit in wolf form, before you awoke.” So basically, by magic. 

Something ticked in Trevor’s mind, the thought process physically visible. “But I was sleeping half sprawled on top of you. That means… You took the hit for me?”

“Don’t get your breeches in a bunch, Belmont. I simply noticed them first. Never mind, just help me out of the shirt.” He really wished for anyone but Trevor to help him out, but he’d take what he got, and lifting his left arm pulled at the wound, new rivers of blood running down his side. He preferred not to move it much.

Trevor walked over, placing a bowl of water and what looked like folded, clean fabric on the table. Standing behind Adrian, he pulled at the hem of the shirt, lifting it carefully, until he could get it over Adrian’s head and snake the left arm out of it as well.

“Fuck,” Trevor breathed, fingers prodding around the wound, measuring depth and seriousness. “How could you walk for hours like this saying nothing, Alucard? Those talons raked bone, the gashes are all the way down to your ribs. In the best of situations they’d need stitches.”

“No need, I’m still...me. A vampire, as you so often remind me. They’ll heal given time, but wouldn’t say no to some help bandaging them up. I can’t reach…”

“No shit,” Trevor growled. “I’ll help. Even if only because we need you to take down Dracula.” It didn’t sound entirely genuine, Adrian noted.

\---

And that was how Adrian found himself with Trevor Belmont’s warm hands on his skin, comforting and steady, as they cleaned and bandaged. Not exactly how he’d imagined it, but again, he’d take anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of all my recent fics to demand I write a second chapter... It had to be this one. There might even be a third one coming.


	3. Shared Sleep

Bandage fastened around his waist and the coat pulled back on, Adrian got to his feet. The shirt was a write off, nothing bar magic would ever get it clean again, he’d have to see about procuring another come morning. Maybe someone in the hamlet could sell him one?

Favoring one side, he walked down the stairs, slowly, to the kitchen where Sypha and the elderly landlady was waiting. “Your room is free now, Sypha. We’re heading outside,” he said to the Speaker. To the landlady he bowed his head. “Thank you for taking us in at this late hour. We appreciate it.”

“Not a problem, young man. These old bones need little sleep, I was just dozing in my chair here when you came a-knocking. But are you really all right, that bandage looks serious?” She eyed him with the burrowing stare of someone quite near-sighted, but who saw beyond facades and pretenses after years of having to read people as part of their profession.

“Yes, not to worry. They’re just some shallow scrapes,” he lied - they soon would be anyway. “Though my shirt is ruined.” Quickly throwing the scrunched up fabric into the fire, he watched it burn. Better to be on the safe side, who knew what creatures the scent of vampire blood could call out to.

“I think maybe Ion’s son is your size, uhh… What should I call you, young man?” She looked him over again, squinting, but obviously appreciative. 

“I’m Adrian. Sypha here I guess you’ve talked a bit with already. The big one is Trevor.” Not a word about who they were to each other, and she had the sense to not ask either. 

“Well then, Adrian. I’ll send my grandson over to Ion’s in the morning proper. If they have a shirt to spare, I’ll have it here in the morning. Can’t have people traveling in just a coat this time of year, we’d be sending you off to your deaths, for sure.”

“Thank you very much, ma’am. I’ll be sure to compensate Ion if they can part with a shirt.” He still had a small amount of coins hidden away, enough for rooms once in a while, and for a new shirt. 

“I’ll tell him as much. Now go sleep it off and let the girl use her room, she’s almost keeling over here.” She was right, Sypha looked ready to collapse. It wouldn’t be an early morning start, that was for sure. 

Nodding, he faked a yawn of his own. “I’ll see you two ladies tomorrow.” Turning, he headed back out the door and into the night. Smelling the air, and listening intently, he heard nothing but the sounds of a sleeping village. If they were lucky they’d get to spend the rest of the night resting peacefully. He walked the rest of the distance over to the stable, searching out the ladder leading up to the loft. 

Trevor was waiting for him, uncharacteristically reaching out a hand to help Adrian up the ladder. Of course Adrian could have just used his magic, but it would drain him. Instead, he took the hand offered him, feeling it close around his own, warm and strong. Hesitating a moment too long, he memorized it feel of it, committed to memory, until Trevor seemed to want to retract his offer of help. Only then did he put his weight on the ladder steps and climb up. He was pulled up the last few steps, stumbling awkwardly, thrown off his balance. Trevor caught him, against his chest, and Adrian hissed. Sure, he could pretend it was in pain, but if he was honest, it was far from. Why did his body react so positively to every touch from Trevor when he was such an abrasive ass? 

Enjoying the touch of Trevor’s hands on his hips, he still realized he had to pull away before he said or did something he shouldn’t. Curling his fingers, he removed his hand from Trevor’s chest, hovering there for a moment as he regained his balance.

Adrian looked around the loft. It was dark, but he saw what he needed. It was obviously a space used when the inn had too many guests, fairly clean for being above a stable. A few simple bed rolls were rolled out, atop a mattress of hay each. Spartan, but comfortable enough.

The air was a bit on the chilly side, but fair enough. He considered sleeping in his wolf form, but again, using his powers cost him, and for once he actually needed the rest. Shrugging out of his coat, he folded it away neatly. Lying down, he pulled a thin blanket over himself, slowly folding himself into a ball, knees almost to his chest. Exhausted, he hoped the night horde would keep away for at least one night, and he blacked out, dead to the world.

\---

Waking as a few rays of light made their way into to loft, confused and sleep-addled, Adrian found himself encircled in Trevor’s arms, his warm chest pressed against his back. Blinking, he tried sitting up, but the arms kept him in place. He’d have to push to move them, and he just couldn’t find the motivation to do so. 

“Don’t move," Trevor spoke then, voice gritty and gruff as always, too close to Adrian's ear for his comfort. “You were shivering badly in your sleep, completely out of it. I couldn’t even wake you. Figured you’ve kept me warm so many times I owed you one. How are the ribs?”

Adrian steadied his breath, calmed his heart. When was the last time he had felt it beat against his ribs like that? Trevor against him filled a need he hadn’t known he had, hadn’t allowed himself to consider. He didn’t want just hands and fleeting touches - he wanted _this_ \- feeling warm and comforted in someone's arms. In Trevor Belmont's arms.

Even if it involved having to figure out how to deal with the hunter's rough-edged personality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still worth continuing?


	4. Shared Anger

Rough-edged, yes - but with a poorly hidden streak of compassion, something alcohol and bitterness hadn’t been able to completely erase. That was what Adrian saw when he looked at Trevor Belmont. Without that sprinkling of compassion, he was fairly sure the hunter would never have agreed to a suicidal plan the save Wallachia from Dracula’s ire - family pride be damned. 

Trevor would complain, throw insults, whine and bitch, but he _cared_. Care for his legacy, cared for the world, cared for Sypha - and perhaps Adrian, even. Adrian just had to make him see it - after he’d enjoyed lying in Belmont’s arms for as long as he could. If he didn't get up, Belmont’s arm was stuck underneath him, keeping him in place as well. The way it was, they’d both have to get up for one to get up.

He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, until he wasn’t pretending any longer. 

\---

When he opened them again, Belmont had managed to sneak away anyway, and a white shirt had been placed beside Adrian, where Trevor had been sleeping. 

Adrian got up, tentatively stretching, feeling his body move and twist, the pain mostly gone. Pushing fingertips against the bandage, things felt more like they should, though still a bit sore. Unwrapping the fabric, he tried looking at the wounds, but they were outside of his field of vision. Still, it felt okay, like slightly raised welts that would soon fade to nothing. Taking a chance, he left the wrapping off, instead pulling the shirt on. It smelled clean, but foreign, not like himself.

His coat was bloodied, but no-one would notice. No human, at least. Until he found somewhere to clean it, it would just have to do. Pulling it on he felt more like himself, especially after he had run his fingers through his hair and picked out both a few strands of hay and a few tangles. He didn’t often actually sleep, and the feeling of gunk in his eyes and dryness in his mouth wasn’t something he appreciated. Climbing downstairs, he found a bucket of water that smelled fresh and clean. He wet his hands and rubbed them across his face, feeling instantly refreshed from the simple act. 

Strolling across the yard and inside the inn he found Belmont and Sypha sitting by a table, eating porridge and chatting animatedly. They both stopped and looked up as he walked closer, though Sypha’s face cracked into a welcoming smile almost instantly. “You’re better!” she said, enthusiastically.

“Quite,” he answered, sitting down beside them. The scars across his ribs stung a little as he leaned against the back of the chair, but he felt like he managed to hide it this time. 

But no, there Belmont went becoming all quiet again, studying him under knitted brows. Damn him, and both his eyes. He’d seen. 

Trying to distract them, he waved the landlady over, her short stature scurrying over instantly. “Here,” he said, pulling a few coins from a pocket. “I’m guessing this shirt came from Ion.”

She nodded, smiling. “I’m glad it fit. You look better, Master Adrian.”

“Thank very much for arranging it. Give a few coins to Ion and your grandson for fetching it. The rest you can keep for yourself, it should cover the rooms as well.” 

She accepted the money, pocketing it happily. “Do you want something to eat before you three up and leave? A drink?” 

“A cup of warm wine wouldn’t be wrong, I see you’re keeping some heated over the fire.”

“I’ll bring you a cup then.” She hurried away, movements practiced over many years of service to her customers.

“Are you really good to travel?” Sypha asked.

“Yes, all good. We actually should get going, the days are short, and we’ve lost time.” He was handed a cup by the landlady, and he turned it in his hands, around and around. “Eat up, drink up, and we’ll head out.”

\---

Having emptied the cup, Adrian rose to his feet and headed for the stables. The horses had been fed and watered, but they needed to be harnessed and made ready for travel

The stable was quiet, bar the breathing of horses, their soft sounds welcoming him as he stepped inside. He found the darker of their mares first, rubbing her muzzle when she stuck her head out into the walkway. She was too skinny, but all the horses in Gresit had been, the only ones not starved already dead, demon fodder. She’d done good work so far, still, getting them to where they were. He hoped she’d gotten to fill up for once, starvation not something he wished on anyone. 

A little shuffle was all the noise betraying someone else's presence behind him. Turning on his heels he found himself face to face with a scowling Belmont. An arm came to rest against the wood beside his face, half way closing him in against the wall between the horses’ booths.

“You’re a liar, fangs,” Belmont growled. “You’re still hurting.”

Taller than Trevor, Adrian made sure his disdainful mask was perfected, looking down his nose at the hunter. “And you care _why_? Thought you’d be the happiest if the world was free from vampires completely - and you do keep reminding me I am one.” He saw the frustration his words caused, and it was perfect. At least a provoked Trevor was a Trevor that _saw_ him.

“Fuck you,” Trevor swore. “I, uh… I don’t know _why._ ” His face twisted in obvious confusion.

Leaning back, Adrian cocked his head, realizing this was a moment where whatever the members of their little group was to each other could change. This was where they could transcend being simple pawns in a prophecy. Trevor Belmont was observant, but in many ways he didn’t know himself. Maybe it was time to tell him a truth or two. “You don’t actually care, you just need me,” Adrian started. “You need me to find Dracula. You need me to fight beside you so you can restore your family’s honour or die trying. You need me to throw insults at, so you can feel better about yourself. Should I continue?” He saw anger boil on Trevor, and he wanted it to boil over completely. “Little Trevor Belmont wants to save the world, but needs the big, bad vampire to do it, too weak to do anything on your own.”

Belmont’s other hand, a white-knuckled fist, slammed into the wall, on the other side of Adrian’s face, earning them a startled whinny from the mare in the booth beside them. 

“You really are an asshole, Alucard.” His voice was low, simmering with anger.

Adrian laughed, coldly. “Says the one who’s insulting me at every turn, and then pretends to care. Two-faced, tsk.” 

Vibrating, tense, Trevor growled again. “I _do_ fucking care. Now fucking admit it, you’re still hurt. _Show me_.”

Feeling the corners of his mouth twist up, almost cruelly, Adrian shrugged the coat of his shoulders, catching his own arms in it, as it gathered by his elbows. “Check for yourself if you’re so goddamn worried,” he said, voice as even as ever, not betraying the little fire that burned in him, stoked by having Belmont so close, too close. If Belmont wanted to see, there wasn’t a chance in hell he wasn’t making sure he’d feel his hands on his skin in the process. 

Trevor pulled at the hem of the new shirt, pulling it up, searching out the wounds with his fingers. The touch was surprisingly gentle, and Adrian let the back of his head and the top of his spine fall back to rest against the wall in a little moment of honesty on his body’s part. Calculatingly, he let a little sigh slip, just loud enough to make sure Trevor heard.

Trevor froze, his fingers still on Adrian’s skin. His eyes widened, pupils darkening. “That wasn’t from pain, was it?” The anger melted from his voice, instantly, leaving mild confusion. 

“No, Belmont. It wasn’t.” Pushing away from the wall, Adrian inserted himself in Belmont’s personal space, almost nose to nose. “Now you make a choice. Either you get your hands off me and keep them to yourself forever.” He smiled wickedly, toothily, _unabashed_. “Or you fucking kiss me, and I promise I'll show you things that would get you excommunicated twice more over.”

Trevor stared at him, mouth opening and closing, like a fish out of water. Adrian felt like he should take some pride in finally having shut him up, but the stretched out silence actually stung. He found himself about to pull away, but then… Then Trevor closed his mouth, stood up straight, and placed his palm against Adrian’s chest. He pushed, not away, but against the wall again - and followed. 

His mouth on Adrian’s, warm, hot, demanding, was everything Adrian had imagined. Lifting his hands, Adrian cradled the back of Trevor’s head, pulling him even closer. This was neither the right time nor the right place, out in the open, inside a stable, but fuck it if he’d be the one to stop...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adrian is quite the little manipulator, eh?
> 
> I really ain't sure about this fic, it's a little bit different and I feel like I'm having some pacing issues. I think I've read through this chapter at least ten times, never happy with it. well, up it goes, just scream at me if it's horrible. 
> 
> If I continue, though, I'm pretty sure the rating is going up, up, all the way up.


	5. Shared Desires

In the end it had been Trevor that pulled back, a gentle cough telling them Sypha was on her way. Yet his hands had stayed on Adrian’s hips for a moment too long, hesitant to let go. So in the end Adrian straightened, untangled himself to walk past Trevor, whispering, “Later.”

Trevor had coughed, a slight blush colouring the tops of his cheeks. 

“Don’t go soft on me now, Belmont,” Adrian laughed. He wanted the hardened hunter, not some blushing debutante. Though it was quite the intriguing sight, one he could appreciate.

\---

Their travels continued for a few more days, through bleak daylight and cold nights. Adrian found few opportunities to satisfy his cravings, but if he could touch Belmont, he did. Whenever he walked past him, his fingers found something to brush across - earning him sideways glances from dark, blue eyes. There was still an edge of confusion in them, some measure of disbelief, but they also burned. Wanted from a distance, but Sypha, cold nights and the night horde always got in their way, the moment never right.

Belmont never stopped running his mouth when displeased, but Adrian saw through him, saw that behind the harsh, scolding words was worry. Uncertainty about the future. Doubts about his own skills. And yet Adrian answered in measure - not wanting some docile, pretty lover. Wanting Belmont, as he was, with all his anger and all his doubts, wanting every bit of it. 

\---

Then they stumbled upon the burnt out remnants of Belmont’s childhood. The hunter’s mood changed, soured. And Adrian got it, he really did. Neither of them felt comfortable in the library - Trevor because of the loss of his family, Adrian because of the sickening repository of knowledge on how to kill him and his kin amassed there, the collection of vampire skulls exhibited behind glass the proof of the Belmont capabilities. They really had been the most proficient and prolific hunters in the area.

Yet Sypha and Trevor still laughed together, talked together, rested together - while he walked the rows of books, looking for the end of his father, his blood. He detested the books, abhorred their content, but realized how important they were and how lucky they had been that the Belmont’s had centralized all of their knowledge. He still hated every page, every folio and the thick air between the rows of books. It smelled of death and destruction, of past times and times yet to come. 

The only one who seemed to honestly appreciate the books was Sypha. She loved them, loved the tangible history they held - to the point where her enthusiasm became infecting. Feeling in a bit of a mood, he’d found her, intent on warning her about getting attached, about the dangers ahead, about the need to keep focused, but instead he ended up trying to make sense of a text in Adamic, High Remembrance and Chaldaic beside her - knowing he was a liar.

Adrian felt dragged down, drowning. He’d warned Sypha about Belmont, but the one suffering from an untimely attachment was himself. The issue of Trevor’s family background should bother him more than it did. Sure, he detested the exhibits on the extermination of vampire-kind showcased in the hold, but Trevor felt almost as misplaced there as himself, the only thing interesting him the selection of weapons strewn about the room, turning his back on anything else. Through the atmosphere was icy, Adrian found himself as mesmerized as ever, staring at Trevor's back.

And then the thumping started. The demons attacking the door spell, breaking it down.

\---

“You’re either the last son of a warrior dynasty or a lucky drunk.” It was all it took to turn the hunter into a warrior, a protector. 

Trevor proved himself to be every bit a Belmont, the whip, morning-star and the sword to quell the vampire scourge. He was beautiful, all form, effective deadliness. And Adrian watched as Trevor fought both the night horde and his father's generals. Committed to memory.

\---

And then the castle stood broken and his father was dead. Sypha and Trevor were gone, and he was alone. Crying. Wrapping his arms around himself, he realized he’d taken too long, the seriousness of a succession of moments having hurled them through the last few days and in different directions, no time to think, no time to breathe. 

His fingers remembered the feel of Trevor’s hair, his skin remembered the odd sensation of Trevor’s fingers running through his wolven fur and across scars, his mouth the taste of him. And he wished for so much more. Too late, he’d been too late. His heart broke, shattered, the sharp obsidian pain of it shredding, tearing. Unable to breath, he had to fight it down, had to bury it deep - alongside memories of his childhood, his mother, and his father.

He stopped thinking, started reading, started absorbing all the information Dracula had amassed in the castle over the years, trying to repair the broken mechanisms and structures. If the castle was to be a monument, it as to become a whole one, if nothing else. 

\---

Then, while he was nose deep in a giant tome on the forgotten lore of the Carpathians, a tapping sound disrupted his concentration, broke him out of the book’s enthrallment. The rapping continued, insistent, and he realized someone was knocking on the castle’s front gates. 

Getting up, he stalked down the hall, the sound growing irritating, nagging. His steps quickened, and his jaw clenched. It was close to midnight, in the deep of winter. Who the fuck was at his door making such a racket? 

The outer doors swinging open as if by magic, revealing a dark form wrapped in a large cape on the front step. Even obscured, he instantly knew who it was: Belmont. 

Trevor pulled his hood back, brushing snow from his shoulders, then rubbed his palms together. His breath froze, half obscuring his face. Looking up he locked eyes with Adrian, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You once said you’d show me things that’d get me excommunicated all over. Offer still stand, vampire?”

Adrian blinked. Once, twice, a few more times. Closing the distance between them in a few quick strides, he grabbed Trevor by the hair at the back of his neck, fingers twisting in the dark strands. “Always.” Skin against skin, mouth against mouth chased the cold away, chased the darkness away, turned obsidian to molten glass - hot and fiery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to whomever spots my stupid literary reference again. I just can't stop it, can I?
> 
> There *might* be another chapter. Might. Not sure if I actually want to up the rating for this one.


End file.
